


Just Desserts

by imachar



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:11:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imachar/pseuds/imachar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A middle of the night PWP</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Desserts

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Clinic Duty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/492362) by [Zauzat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zauzat/pseuds/Zauzat). 



> Inspired by zauzat's wonderful **Clinic Duty** \- unbeta'd, read at your own risk.

“What the… Phil what the fuck are you _doing_? It’s…” Pike pauses and looks at the chronometer on his side of the bed, “…just after four in the fucking morning.”

Pike has woken to the almost imperceptible tap-and-slide of fingertips on a PADD screen and the, much more annoying, pale glow of it in the otherwise pitch-dark of his bedroom and he pushes himself up on one elbow as he tries to figure out why Boyce is sitting up in bed only a few hours after they finally managed to get to sleep. A late and long dinner had been followed by an indulgent, long-drawn out and surprisingly athletic fuck that had rendered both of them limp with exhaustion, and Boyce far too wiped out to even think about going back to his own staff apartment two buildings over.

Beside him Boyce chuckles quietly. “Just exacting our revenge on Kirk and McCoy.” And, clearly finished with whatever he was writing, he thumbs the screen dark and lays the PADD on the nightstand. Pike has a moment of cringing embarrassment when he remembers the events of the previous afternoon – it’s alright for Phil, he wasn't the one getting his ass tanned a rosy red within the hearing of two cadets – and not just any two cadets, two of the most intransigent, high-maintenance cadets the Academy has ever seen. And then, _oh fuck_ Phil had bent him over a desk in an empty office and fucked him to within an inch of his life, all within earshot of Kirk and McCoy who had, apparently, found their performance exceptionally inspiring. He’d almost died of embarrassment four hours later when he’d opened an encrypted data packet from Boyce to find the surveillance footage from the administration corridor.

He rolls over in the dark and slides a hand across Boyce’s chest, idly playing with the thick spread of soft silver curls. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?” And he can’t quite keep the note of hesitant mortification out of his voice.

“Oh, if they know what’s good for them they’ll pretend it never happened.” Boyce pauses for a moment, and that low chuckle is back in his voice as he muses, “Well, they’re probably going to use it as fantasy fuel for their own entertainment, but they’ll never let anyone else know about it. I can make those early-duty orders permanent; they’re smart enough to know they’re getting off easy with just a month of punishment.”

Boyce is right, both Kirk and McCoy are far too astute to try to use what they heard as leverage, even against the captains themselves, and Pike relaxes a fraction, rubbing his chin against Boyce’s flank. The skin is warm and smooth and smells of sex overlain with the slightly citrusy tang of his shower gel and Pike is surprised – having been thoroughly fucked twice in a little under twelve hours – to find his cock stirring again. He curls his fingers a little more tightly into Boyce’s chest hair and tugs, gently encouraging him to lie down once more.

“You can’t possibly want a third round. Jesus, Chrissie you’ll be the death of me.” Boyce’s protest is seriously undermined by the way he curls into Pike, bodies fitting together in the dark, joined from thigh to groin to chest.

“S’okay, if you’re too tired I can always do all the work.” There’s a laugh buried in the low growl of Pike’s voice, his mouth playing along the stubbled line of Boyce’s jaw and he can feel the vibration of an answering chuckle in Boyce’s throat.

“Oh, _yeah_.” Boyce manages to draw out the single syllable into an indecently carnal moan and he stretches in one long, slow arch that rubs silky skin – velvet warm and luxuriously furred – along Pike’s entire body.

It’s all the encouragement Pike needs and, even though it takes a serious effort of will, he pulls away for a moment to fish in the nightstand for lube before rolling back into the slight dip in the middle of the mattress and sliding up against Boyce. It’s dark enough that Pike has to search for Boyce’s mouth, nipping up across his chest and along the hollow of his throat before he finally leans into a long, slow, lazy kiss, tongue teasing gently as he licks his way into slickly yielding heat. This is something they are both so very, very good at; ease and experience born of years of practice – with each other and countless others – lending them skill and familiarity and above all the patience to ratchet up the tension ever so slowly.

By the time they come up for air Pike is shivering with need, his hips stuttering slightly as he rubs himself against Boyce’s thigh, his cock thrumming in time with the beat of his heart and he props himself up in the dark, barely able to make out the pale sliver of Boyce’s hair on the dark cotton of the pillow, the flash of his teeth as he grins and slides his fingers into the soft short hair at the Pike’s nape, tugging gently.

“Come on then darlin’, show me what you've got.”

Pike’s breath hitches at the low promise in Boyce’s voice and he pushes himself away to give Boyce room to move, his voice a little raw and ragged as he orders, “Over – ‘m going to tongue you open and then fuck you until you can’t remember your own fucking name.” He shudders at the look he gets in response, Boyce’s eyes gone wide with need for just a second before he scrambles to comply with the low-voiced command.

They both love this, both crave the intimacy of it, the way Boyce groans and whimpers and curses as Pike spreads his ass cheeks with strong, broad hands and then leans in to slide his tongue sweetly down the smooth stretch of skin from coccyx to perineum. For a second or two Pike avoids the tight furl of Boyce’s entrance, tongue flicking past it to press firmly against the loose creases of his scrotum, teasing as he slides one hand between Boyce’s thighs and gently bends the stiff length of his cock back so that he can flick his tongue over the smooth heat of his glans.

“Oh _fuck_ , yes…fuck, Chris, you’re killing me.”

Pike laughs, his lips pressed against firm, hot flesh and delights in the way that Boyce squirms under his touch.

They’ve been lovers, on and off, for thirty years, and it always amazes and humbles Pike the way Boyce trusts him, the way that he opens up and lets Pike see and hear every thing that he’s feeling as he comes apart under the expert touch of his fingers and lips and cock. Pike isn’t sure that he’s always that generous, the ever present self-consciousness of command holding him in check, just a fraction, until there are days like today, when the heat of Boyce’s hand and the growl of his voice – a deep unyielding authority – strip him bare and leave him flayed open by the ecstasy of completely uninhibited orgasm. He loves Boyce for that, among many other things, not that it’s something either of them would ever say, letting mouths and hands and the hot, slick slide of flesh in flesh speak for them.

Releasing Boyce’s cock, Pike goes back to rimming him, tongue sliding against the tight ring of muscle again and again until it begins to yield to his touch, using his thumbs to spread the firm flesh of Boyce’s ass wide as he presses into slippery heat. He loves this, loves the feel of Phil opening for him, still growling and whimpering, his voice muffled by the pillow, until he turns his head and Pike exults at the low whine that he manages to wring out of Boyce as he adds one spit-slick finger and pushes in deep to the second knuckle.

“Fuck, man Chris, more…please…more.”

Pike knows that these are exactly the sounds he was making earlier in the day as Boyce nailed him to his desk and it feels so good to reciprocate, to be the agent of Phil’s unraveling. He adds a second finger, lube assisted this time, and then a third, finger-fucking slowly, gradually spreading the loosening muscles until Boyce is begging in a low, constant litany of profanity-laced pleas.

“Unngg…jesus…fuck… please…fuck me, just fuck me…please…”

And suddenly, it’s Pike’s turn to be overwhelmed; the slow burn of gradual arousal giving way to a rush of adrenaline and lust. Sliding his fingers out with one last stretching spread, he shoves forward between Boyce’s thighs and spears home in one long, slow, exquisite slide, reveling in the low groan that rumbles up through Boyce’s back.

It’s always going to be a slow fuck, Pike has already come twice in the last twelve hours, he’s not young enough any more to be able to just bounce back from that, and he sets up a long slow, easy rhythm his fingers tight on the smooth curve of Boyce’s hips.

“Oh Christ, Phil…you feel so un-fucking-believably good.” After long minutes of steady push and withdrawal Pike leans forward for a moment, resting his forehead on the sweaty curve of Boyce’s spine, buried to the hilt and panting out slow, even breaths as he tries to keep himself in check.

“Oh…” Boyce drags out the sound before he achieves momentary coherence and grinds out. “Just fuck me, you lazy fucker, come _on_. _Do it_.”

Pike grins against Boyce’s skin, licks a teasing stripe up his nape before he finally capitulates. “Okay, going to make you feel this, Phil – going to make you feel it for fucking _days_.” And then he’s bracing himself against the mattress, using all of his not inconsiderable strength to fuck Boyce hard and fast, until they’re both shaking and breathless and Pike reaches under Boyce, wrapping his fist around the slick heat of his cock and stripping it fast and rough as they tumble together into the rip-tide of a shattering orgasm.

Wrapped together in the damp, sticky aftermath, breathing hard into the darkness they’re silent for a long time as Pike waits for his heart so settle back to a resting beat. Finally, it’s Boyce who breaks the quiet, his voice still rough from the strength of his climax, his lips gentle as they brush along Pike’s throat.

“So, you okay with today?”

Pike manages a chuckle and curls his fingers into the thick softness of Boyce’s hair, holding his head close.

“I can live with it…who knows, maybe Kirk will ease off a bit if he thinks I’m actually human.”

_Fin_


End file.
